One year

Hitching often manifests itself in a cycle of hating life and everything in your path to having faith in humanity restored, enhanced even. It's unpredictable, sometimes painful, (and occasionally sketchy) but mostly, it's representative of everything that Malawi prides itself on being: warm, giving without expectation, communal, caring, and all about the chatting. "Ah, ah!! Muyowya Chitumbuka?" Followed by bouts of laughter and language tests for the next few hours.. 

It's hands down my favorite thing in Malawi. Sure, the country is incredibly breathtakingly gorgeous, yeah the people are kind and communal and beautiful, and obviously the lake, it's all about that lake--but even the worst hitching experiences beat out most everything else for me. Because hitching is more than getting from point A. to point B. its about that good ol' fashioned human connection. It's about seeing the same route through new eyes and learning more about the country, and it's people. It's about swapping stories and cultural exchange. Its about me letting go, being in the moment and falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole--lost and in love with Malawi.

I think back to preservice training (PST) when I was terrified to hitchhike in a new country not knowing the language. (Plus, you know, you get hacked to pieces when you hitch, right?) I was so anxious about the experience I wanted to vomit. Still, when the time came, Emma and I jumped in the back of a rickety little pickup headed to Bua. Wind rushing through our hair, and beautiful scenery speeding past prompted a feeling of warmth that spread from my heart to my fingers and toes.  Freedom, infinity, peace..whatever it was, I stopped being afraid right then and there and started really seeing what this experience, this whole Malawi thing could really be for me.

Since my first time, it's been my preferred method of transport, not merely because minibuses are death traps that closely resemble my idea of hell--nor is it because it's fast and free, but because the human connection gained from these encounters transcends language barriers, cultural differences, everything. It's one of the few times that status, gender, and stereotypes seem to melt away and we're just left naked looking at and reveling in each other's humanity. Also there's tons of laughter, and I dig that.

That's why I was so tickled today on my ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY IN MALAWI during my hour walk home from the trading center when I hitched a ride with a dreadfully nice man and a bunch of iwes on an ox cart. When I had to get off to continue my walk a little girl insisted on escorting me, taking my box and carrying it on her head until we reached her home. At that point, a man saw me trotting along and offered to bike taxi me home for free. 

That's just so Malawi, you know?

 If I could condense my year in Malawi into a series of moments, I'd choose tonight. And that's why I'm constantly swollen or oozing with gratitude and love here. People give without hesitation and kindness its not something that Malawians work on or aspire too, it's just how they live. Loving kindness, it's the singular answer to those deep dark questions we ask ourselves every day. 

Minus my time in PST when I seriously questioned whether I could hack it and whether I was, "hard enough," to live this lifestyle, I've never doubted my service. Sure, we all doubt our impact, and necessity as PCVs, but I've never truly wanted to leave or thought that I should leave Malawi. As soon as we got our homestay families and I moved in with my amayi I fell blindly and wholly for Malawi. And, as soon as I moved to Karonga and saw the opportunity and potential I've been hooked, addicted, conjoined, irrationally in love, whatever. Point is, my heart is here. And my passions? I'm living them.

Before I left for Peace Corps I had a weird break down (sort of spurred by a conversation about orange is the new black) and began to seriously doubt what I was doing. I was going against all my ideals, and for what? There was no way Peace Corps could be sustainable development, I was willingly working for the US government which is something I personally struggle with, and I was going to Africa, me and my anxious terrified little puppy of a self--the fuck? 

As I've been here, I've grown more and more impressed with Peace Corps and the potential of things that can be accomplished through it. I truly believe in what we're doing and the impact we can have. I fully intend to work my ass off and have no regrets when I leave. Unfortunately, I've watched many of my initially idealistic classmates begin with this perspective but have been reduced to a much more skeptical one. I think this is a testament to how challenging grassroots work can be and how disappointed and heart wrenching it is when our efforts and passion projects crash and burn.

And still, we rise again, because that's what Malawi has taught us. Every day, I'm a spectacle whether I'm buying tomatoes or sitting on my porch reading a book. I'm laughed at, judged, photographed, tested, harassed, an object of desire or class mobilization, I'm stereotyped, reduced to my skin, my gender, my nationality. Everyday I am disappointed by how Malawians see me or treat me and yet, every day I'm reminded of our underlying humanity and love that ties us all back together.

Whether or not it's your intention, Peace Corps Malawi breaks you down to your core and your very foundations. It makes you question and consider everything. It changes you. The test is really how you deal with all of this, can you build yourself back up, better, wiser, stronger than before, or do you rely on distractions to fill the gaps and become the mortar to your new self? 

And I guess that's it, really. Yeah, I'm doing work and yeah I'm proud of it--but if you're really interested to know what a year in Peace Corps Malawi looks like, for me it's a hell of a lot of self-growth and it's the relationships.